And speaking of music.
Composers of music for children who grew up in the 60s or 70s are struggling with how to deal with the recharacterization of Pluto as a "dwarf planet" instead of the last of nine planets in our solar system. On Barenaked Ladies' extraordinary kids' album Snack Time, there is a song called "7 8 9," with this: "Seven ate nine! Once upon a time in our solar system/We couldn't make do without 9/But Pluto's not a planet now, so eight'll do fine."
The Nields' superlative Rock All Day/Rock All Night contains "Percy on Pluto," in which they explain: “Pluto’s not a planet anymore, you see it came up short/It’s really pretty tiny and its orbit’s way off course/You can’t really call it a planet anymore, but you can call it Planet Dwarf. ... It doesn’t really matter what you call it it’s the same/A rose is still a rose, after all, by any other name/And those of us who are little, we matter equally/In fact that’s why they passed the laws of mass and density.”
My favorite treatment of the Pluto Issue is on Here Comes Science by the incomparable They Might Be Giants. They run through the eight planets but also mention other bodies that often go unmentioned. This way, they can talk about Pluto and not have to go on about how it was once considered a planet but now it's not, yadda yadda, who cares, and just to make sure they've covered everything, they tack on "and a bunch of other stuff." Brilliant.
(I highly recommend all three albums, by the way. Unlike many kids' albums, these are chock full of genius and get better the more they are played.)
Okay, so, remember Passover? Right, you don't want to. Too bad. So I hosted a seder, and my family came, saw, and was suitably impressed. We used a haggadah that my mother found, which was supposed to help you do a shorter but more complete seder. We were test-driving it, and we only had one copy, so I read from it while others tried to follow along in another Haggadah. (I know, one isn't supposed to do it this way, but stay with me.)
As Mom had warned me, the language was a bit advanced for the young ones, so I sort of modified it as I went along. My mother-in-law exclaimed "wow! I've never heard this before!" which meant that, even though she had hosted and attended many a seder, she had never heard the story told quite this way. I believe I made it ... entertaining while simultaneously educational! The only grumble was from my oldest nephew, but he's 15 and that's sort of his job.
(Oh, and the food was good. When I have lots of money I will buy this seder plate. And kiddush cups for the kids. And a havdallah set. And a bunch of other stuff.)
The big people were also impressed with my children's chanting of the Four Questions in Hebrew (and Einstein's reading of them in English), which we had practiced at night before going to bed. Pumpkin is especially eager to learn things like this and then show everyone. When he hits religious school he will be far ahead. Meanwhile, Einstein's religious school report card was outstanding, and received a "Woo hoo!" comment from the director. Apparently, some genius absorption has been detected.
And speaking of holidays.
There was an event for little ones on Shavuot, but I did not take them, because I realized that it was really intended for the preschoolers from our shul's "Early Childhood Center," or ECC, who would not have school that day. I've been to ECC-sponsored things and found them to be cliquish; i.e., I felt loserlike because my child wasn't in the ECC. (It's also hard sometimes for a Mom with a job outside of the home, such as myself, to relate to those without, and since ECC is not a full-day program, many of those mothers are in that category. Wow, that sentence tried really hard to be "correct," didn't it? This is a complicated issue. We won't get into this now.) The bottom line is that my kids didn't really celebrate Shavuot. Also, as I had predicted, there were very few people at services. No one thinks Shavuot is important enough to take their kids out of school (my mother even told me not to, which is interesting, because during our public school years that's exactly what my parents did...).
A lady read my mind, suggesting after the service that we start talking up Shavuot early on, and planning for it so it is in everyone's mind. This is the celebration of G-d giving us the Torah. What could be more important? So next year...
And speaking of synagogue attendance.
I have to give our shul points for deciding to allow people to officially pay their membership dues and religious school tuition on a monthly basis. It used to be that you had to call up and speak to the administrators and discuss the fact that you could not afford to shell out all that cash at once. I've received mailings about just going ahead and paying monthly installments without making any special arrangements. I think more people will join if they don't have to grovel.
I could do an entire post on how expensive it is to raise Jewish children, but I don't much want to. This part depresses me. When I was the age my children are now I was going to camp at the Jewish Community Center, but I can't afford to send my kids there. (It is even more expensive now than it normally would be, because, as I understand it, someone Madoff with much of the JCC's endowment.) There is a Chabad camp that operates nearby, so I may be able to swing a session there next summer. But I'll go cross-eyed if I try to focus on the funds required for a decent bar mitzvah, a high school Israel program, not to mention TWO kids in religious school next year. Then I'll start bumping into walls, which might cause me to break my house, or a fingernail. Can't have that.
In order to continue the attempt to establish, and eventually cement, my family's religious involvement, without getting depressed or anxious or having to iron my hands or whack my head I have to maintain a level of contentment with an unknowable future....
Okay, stop the presses. The end part of this blog post has been conveniently written for me by my son. I was bringing Einstein to camp on the morning of Tisha B'Av (The Ninth of Av, the 11th month in the Jewish calendar). On the car ride over, I reminded him about the Wall in Jerusalem, and explained that on this day far back in history, enemies of the Jews destroyed our Temple, and all that is left is that wall. (I wanted to keep it simple for him, but Tisha B'Av actually commemorates several tragedies that occurred--probably not so coincidentally--on this day.) This launched into a discussion of Jewish beliefs and holidays.
Among other questions, he asked why his cousins "switched to Christian" and whether they could switch back (he seemed to be thinking: why would anyone want to do that?). He asked me when it was going to be Passover so we could read from "the Play-Doh book" (referring to a children's haggadah we use that has claymation-type illustrations). We spoke a bit about the seder and what he liked about it (helping to set the table was one thing). I told him that Rosh Hashanah was coming up next, and he got very excited because he remembered the apples-dipped-in-honey tradition, probably his favorite holiday food thing. He said he liked Shabbat. He asked which holiday is the one where you look for three stars? That's actually havdallah, the end of Shabbat, I explained. (We haven't started doing havdallah, though I really want to. For some reason, we didn't do this growing up, but it's a nice ritual involving a cool-looking candle and b'samim--aromatic spices such as cloves. I think it is time to take Einstein to the Jewish Stuff Store and get us a havdallah set.) He said he likes being Jewish.
I'm supposed to say something here about how this one little boy has provided me a huge boatload of hope that is, by itself, a great force to secure us against future attempts at the destruction of our people. If any of you Very Smart and Talented Writers have the words to express that, have at it in the comments. Instead I'll just say that if I sometimes feel like Pluto, he is my dwarf planet Eris, and even way out here, we've got apples and honey, and a bunch of other stuff.
